Hey, Bobby. Feeling cantankerous?
“Lil bit, yeah. Been perusing some comment boards past day or so.”
Oh, fuck, no. Do not do that.
“Lotta opinions out there in Internet Land. Prices too this, shows too that, Trey too whatever.”
Well, that’s what people do on the internet: bitch about shit that hasn’t happened yet. And face-sitting, if you’re British.
“We should do a tour. A tour! 35 shows in 40 nights. Maybe we can get a bus like the real old days. Are people aware that the Dead’s average age is deceased?”
“Before we signed the contracts, we had to have our insurance physicals. The doctor said that Billy was ‘more herpe than man’ by now.”
“Jesus, we’re gonna have a party for three days and then pack it up. Fuck off into the sunset. With our shred of accidental dignity. Can’t folks just dig the beauty of the whole scheme?”
“Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.”
Words to live by.
“Oh, there’s also this mean fucker on the internet keeps bringing up Mrs. Donna Jean not being there.”
That’s me, Bobby.